The Window Seat
by queenofsassandangst
Summary: Dramione. 8th Year Fic. Hermione is back at Hogwarts for her final year. She is missing the boys and somehow writing essays isn't coming as easily to her anymore. When she goes to the library and her favourite spot is taken by a certain blonde Slytherin, what will happen?


Hermione pulled back her mess of hair into a high bun on top of her head as she frowned down at the essay she was supposed to be writing.

Somehow, since returning to Hogwarts a month ago to complete her final year, she had discovered that her academic abilities had slipped during her time away. Was it the lack of Harry and Ron at Hogwarts which had turned her brain to mush? The lack of studying for the past year? Or maybe she was just losing her edge…

She sucked the end of her quill. She'd researched this topic thoroughly. So thoroughly, in fact, that she possessed 20 sheets of parchment dedicated to this one healing charm. And yet the page before her was blank.

A rush of noise and laughter interrupted her concentration, as the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team paraded through the portrait. Despite appearing to be absolutely soaked through, the group were chatting excitedly and throwing a quaffle back and forth. Ginny, red hair plastered to her face, broke away from the group,

"Hey 'Mione!" she grinned, launching herself down upon the chair opposite Hermione and spraying droplets of water over Hermione's blank paper, "Whatcha up to?"

"I'm _supposed _to be writing my charms essay," Hermione groaned, gesturing at the paper. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"No offence, Hermione," Ginny began, "but aren't you supposed to love homework?"

Hermione pulled a face and threw her hands in the air.

"I do! I just… can't get my thoughts on the page. It's like my brain doesn't work since we've restarted."

Ginny snorted as she pulled off her Quidditch boot and poured a small pond onto the floor. Once she was done, she turned back to her frustrated friend with an amused look.

"Listen, I think you need a break," she told her.

It was Hermione's turn to scoff.

"I'll have a break once I've got my NEWTs Gin'. I'm going to go the the library."

It was late on Saturday afternoon, so naturally the library was almost deserted. Madam Pince nodded to Hermione as she entered, one of her admirers far before the war had propelled her into household recognition. Hermione gave her a small smile back and wandered through the stacks towards her favourite spot to work.

It was a small table with enough room for two or three, tucked away underneath a window in one of the farthest spots into the library. In the summer, the window provided a cooling breeze and the glimpse of the sun reflecting on the lake below. Today, the rain would beat down upon it, a calming song. She'd often bought Harry or Ron here when they'd needed to perfect an essay, though she most often frequented it by herself.

When she arrived however, the table was already occupied.

A surge of panic rushed through her, as she considered the possibility she would never finish her essay. _Don't be ridiculous_ she chided herself, taking a long, deep breath, _just go and ask if you can sit there too. _

The other student was sat with their back to her, slouched over their work she could hear the furious scribbling of their quill against the parchment. She approached quickly, pulling her bag from her shoulder,

"Hi, would it be okay if I sat here tooooo," her final word trailed off into oblivion, as the current student raised their head to glance at her. If she had been able to see the boys hair from behind, she would never have walked up to the table. Blonde locks fell over his eyes, but they couldn't hide the shock in his grey pupils as Draco Malfoy stared up at her.

For a moment, the pair just stared at each other.

"Oh um, I'm sorry Malf- I mean Draco- I didn't mean-" words tumbled from Hermione's mouth as she attempted to excuse herself. She turned to march away, wanting to leave the awkwardness as quickly as possible, and her bag snagged on the table. Parchment, quills, ink and books tumbled to the floor. Hermione cursed. As she leant down to pick them up, so too did Malfoy.

"Have you written the charms essay yet?" he asked, picking up one of the pages of notes on the floor and passing it to her carefully. She took it from him.

"No," she replied.

With the contents back inside her bag, Hermione stood and Malfoy followed. He gave her a quick nod and sat back down in his chair, avoiding eye contact.

Hermione had only gone five steps away from the table when the confession slipped from her mouth: "I'm having trouble with the charms essay, actually."

He turned to glance at her. She watched him closely as he seemed to weigh something up in his head,

"I always find it helps to talk through my ideas if I'm stuck," he replied. She nodded, grateful that their conversation had remained civil. "Do you want to discuss it?"

She hadn't expected Draco Malfoy to ask her to sit at his table, nor had she expected herself to say yes. Yet Hermione had to admit that the time she had spent discussing her essay ideas with him had been exceptionally productive.  
They'd talked for two hours about the charm: it's uses, benefits, drawbacks and even suggestions of other spells which would work better in certain situations or for particular wizards.

Hermione had known for a long time that Malfoy was intelligent, but she had never expected him to be so well matched to her academically. He was incredibly well-versed in healing charms (she knew why, of course, though neither mentioned their shared talent or where it came from) and he had even suggested several points which she hadn't considered.

By Sunday evening, she had written arguably her best essay in several years and it was strangely thanks to Malfoy.


End file.
